11.1.11 is when it all makes sense
Texting my mama current self
For real, a nigga ill
The knowledge of my self still
That's too many problems, too late to think over
Self designated wicked critical closer
Feelin sorry for myself no self esteem
And eat about four bowls of some frozen ice cream
U know self made salf paid
I get my paper, y'all just hate
Still hear that laughin' under breath while the orlando police
Giving no apologies about my self centered ideologies,
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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